


Please

by Rachiepoo



Series: Fairshaw Drabbles [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Dom/sub, Drabble, M/M, Past Mathias Shaw/Edwin Vancleef, Shibari, Spanking, Suspension, Trauma, ropes, tying up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachiepoo/pseuds/Rachiepoo
Summary: Ropes bind my wrists, tight, tighter still (not tight enough).  He’s good at tying knots, so why does he hesitate?  But then, I’m lifted off the ground and my bindings are hanging on hooks along the ceiling.  My weight pulls me down, causing the rope to pull more.  It’s perfect.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Series: Fairshaw Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110008
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Please  
> Word count: 360

I see the final moments of my marks--an endless list of names of my enemies. Last words as a payment they give me, while I drive the dagger across their throat and render them speechless for eternity. Killing bad people should bring about a sense of relief. But for me, it’s anything but. The job is never done.

Ropes bind my wrists, tight, tighter still (not tight enough). He’s good at tying knots, so why does he hesitate? But then, I’m lifted off the ground and my bindings are hanging on hooks along the ceiling. My weight pulls me down, causing the rope to pull more. It’s perfect.

Darkness envelops me back in that cage. Helpless. Detheroc invading my mind. My legs begin to tremble, from fear, from arousal. It’s a strange, conflicting emotion. 

Crack.

My breath leaves me immediately from the force, and I’m brought back to the present, this room. He whips me once more, on the other ass cheek. I try to suppress the moan from spilling from my lips. He chuckles in my ear, his mustache brushing the skin there. I shiver.

More ropes wrap around me, my chest, arms, legs. Every inch of skin not covered by rope is beautifully swollen, sensitive, aching. Edwin could never quite get the hang of it.

“Look at me,” he commands. My eyes open to the Captain--and any thoughts of Edwin, Detheroc, my victims--it all disappears. He’s fully dressed, trademark coat included. I hear his boots click across the floor as he circles me. “Beautiful,” he admires.

He stops in front of me, his eyes tracing the path of ropes across my chest. My nipples are pebbled, his stare lingers. “Shall I leave you here for a while?” He strokes his beard in thought. And some nights getting lost in the feeling of the ropes, of complete surrender has its own appeal. But tonight I want…

He doesn't walk away; he steps closer. A hand trails down my chest, stomach, and then he’s gripping my neglected, dripping erection. I bite my lip harshly to keep from screaming. I’m so close already.

“Speak, Shaw,” he tells me.

“Please,” I whine.


End file.
